The Death Of One
by DAIrinchan
Summary: Kurei can't show any sign of weakness in front of his enemies or his subordinates. But maybe he can grieve with a friend.


**Disclaimer:** I wish i did own _Flame Of Recca_. I'd take good care of it, i promise! ( . . . ish . . . )

* * *

His face was still, his breath was calm, and the hard lump between his heart and his diaphragm hurt more today.

Jisho was dead, and it didn't matter.

It couldn't matter. Kouran Mori had eyes everywhere, and his son was a cold man who cared for no one.

Ura-Uruha belonged to Kouran. If he showed the slightest hesitation, his father would know he could still be hurt. Kurei could not allow that.

The tournament would go on as if Jisho was just the same as any other competitor who lost his life. It had to be that way. Jisho couldn't be any different.

Because he _had_ told Neon the truth. Even good warriors die.

Even the best.

Even Jisho, he didn't say.

She shouted at him. That was okay. She could do that. He waited until she was done, letting her raw emotion wash over him. He wished he had his mask. He wasn't sure he would be able to cover up the way his jaw muscles clenched until they ached. The best he could do was to keep his back to her.

When Neon was spent she sniffed hard, defiantly, and turned on her heel. Kurei closed his eyes and listened to her footsteps fading in the hall. She wasn't leaving. She was upset, but she wouldn't leave.

Jisho was gone, but he didn't have to leave either, the thought occurred to Kurei.

Kurei hadn't tried this since Kurenai. He didn't know if it would still work. Maybe it had been a one-off then. Maybe Jisho's corpse wasn't fresh enough. But he had to try. He wanted to try. He couldn't lose Jisho too.

His mind resolved, Kurei left the castle. He would go to the dome and find Jisho's body.

* * *

Kurei closed his eyes. He was back in his room, alone. He had left the light off. His surroundings felt bigger, the shadows deeper. It had been the same in the forest. Everything seemed farther away. It would pass.

The doorknob clicked as someone opened it. Kurei shrouded his fist in flame and he swung toward the door. When he realized who it was, he allowed it to die out.

"Get out, Joker," he said. "I'm not in the mood tonight."

Joker was Joker, though, and contrary, so when he closed the door behind him he was on the wrong side of it.

"Did you see?" he asked quietly. There was no question of whether Kurei _knew_.

Kurei didn't move, didn't look at him.

"How are you doing?" Joker pressed.

"I'm fine," Kurei said shortly. If only Joker would _leave_. He wasn't in any state to be seen now.

Joker took a step closer. "It's not healthy to keep your feelings bottled up. You ought to just let everything out once in a while. Like me!"

"I don't have feelings," Kurei retorted.

"Sure you do. If you didn't, they wouldn't be hurting you now."

"Who says i'm hurting?"

Joker looked meaningfully at Kurei's fist. Kurei followed his gaze. His hand was bleeding. He clenched his fists so often that he didn't notice anymore when his nails cut into his palms. He made an effort to uncurl his fingers and shook out his sleeve to cover his hand. "I'm fine," he said again.

"Are not," Joker replied. Kurei glared at him. Did he always have to be stubborn?

"It's okay to be upset," Joker said. "I'm upset. He was a cool guy. And it's a horrible way to die."

"It's not," Kurei muttered. Joker looked at him. "Huh?"

"It's not okay," Kurei repeated, his voice carrying even though he refused to raise it. "I can't be upset. I can't hesitate even a little. If i do, Mori will know there's someone else who can be used against me!"

"But Jisho's dead," Joker pointed out. "Mori-san can't do anything to him now."

"He's not the–" Kurei remembered himself and turned abruptly away. He couldn't say it. Saying it would mean he admitted to it.

"We're not helpless," Joker said in a low voice. Damn him, he already knew. "Me and Neon and Raiha. We can protect ourselves, you know."

"Not from him!" Kurei snapped. Whirling on Joker, he grabbed the man by the shoulders. He had to make him understand. "He'll destroy you! That man is more cunning than you realize. He'll never stop! He'll hold you over my head until . . . i can't . . ." Kurei's voice broke. Clearly startled, Joker's hands jerked upwards, as if he were reaching for him.

 _Don't touch me,_ Kurei begged silently. He was absolutely sure that if Joker took hold of him now, he would shatter, and he'd never be able to be the cruel master of Uruha again.

Joker's hands stopped mercifully where they were, frozen in air away from Kurei's sides.

Kurei's breath was rough. He couldn't control it anymore. He was more concerned with the hot tears blazing down his face. He ducked his head, fingers tightening involuntarily. He couldn't allow Joker to see him like this.

But he couldn't stop. His breath came faster. His throat constricted. Against his will, a sob broke out of him.

After that, there was no stopping it. Kurei tried to stifle the sound of his voice, but he couldn't hold back the flood of emotion that was pouring out of him. His tears burned him, and he didn't know anymore if they were wet. His hands clenched on Joker's shoulders until it hurt.

Joker was uncharacteristically silent, standing still as Kurei cried. He was grateful for that, his breath hitching. He couldn't bear to be teased or comforted. The tears kept flowing, bearing with them his grief, his fear, his rage, hollowing him out. Each time his chest heaved, it felt more of him was ripped away. His throat was tearing. He didn't have anything to cling to but Joker's shoulders.

Eventually the tears slowed. Kurei's breath still shook, but he was able to discipline it. He was back in control.

Kurei turned away, not raising his head until his back was to the other man. He didn't want to know what kind of expression was on Joker's face. He didn't want Joker to see whatever expression Kurei was wearing. "Go," he said hoarsely.

Joker didn't reply. Instead he stepped forward and laid his hand on Kurei's back – the only time he had touched him since Jisho's death. His hand was warm, heavy on the raw husk of Kurei's body. After a moment, the hand was gone. Joker crossed the room and left from the balcony. Kurei didn't move until the warm spot between his shoulder blades cooled.

There was blood on his fingertips, fresher than his own. His nails must have cut into Joker's shoulders, the same way they so often cut into his own palms, but the other man hadn't made a sound, nothing to suggest Kurei's grip was hurting him.

Kurei flexed his fingers, watching the blood shine in the faint moonlight coming from the balcony door. Tomorrow Uruha-Ma would fight Hokage. He doubted they'd be able to defeat Recca, but if they did, he'd be waiting for them. If not . . .

Well. He would see.


End file.
